Calming herself somewhat and looking around, Mistress Madonna realised that Vladimir had not entered the room with them.
“Baroness, isn’t Vladimir going to join us. I thought you said he was another of your guests.”
"Yes, he is, but he is waiting outside for the owner of the castle to join us.”
“You mentioned him before, but I thought that you owned this place.”
“No my dear, I do not. I met the true owner through Vladimir and now I live here permanently at his very thoughtful invitation, and . . . Ah, I think I hear them now.”
Mistress Madonna followed the Baroness’ eyes to the door and saw Vladimir entering with a sneering, hard-faced man, who although as greatly changed in appearance as Anna, was someone that she realised she had encountered before: the policeman.
The Baroness rose from her seat.
“Mistress Madonna, please allow me to introduce you to your ultimate host and the owner of the castle; Donatien Alphonse François, The Marquis de Sade.”
The Contest
THERE WAS ONLY SO MUCH that Mistress Madonna was prepared to take. Whatever was happening, real or not, she had reached her limit and the entrance of the so-called Marquis de Sade was the final straw. This was obviously some kind of con trick. What did they take her for? Some sort of simpleton?
She leapt to her feet and stomped towards the fireplace.
“I’ve had enough of this. I don’t know what game you’re playing but as far as I’m concerned, it’s over. I’m leaving, and Julian’s coming with me!”
The Baroness’ swift response was unequivocal.
“I’m afraid not my dear. We have other plans for you, and especially for your virgin.”
Nobody had plans for Mistress Madonna except herself. She possessed a phenomenal physical strength, as Julian could well testify and so she fought with determined and unexpected vigour as two female guards attempted to prevent her from carrying out her threat. The contest was not lost without great resistance and she continued to wrestle off the Baroness’ aides attempts at subduing her, until Vladimir and the Marquis joined in the struggle and their combined might overcame her and she was finally vanquished.
With Mistress Madonna held tight in her captors’ grip, the Baroness raised a glass of crimson liquid to her lips as she swept her eyes over her crushed and confused guest.
“Now that we have quietened your little tantrum, I am inclined to believe that I owe you some sort of explanation before you and your slave are relieved of your human forms. I was intrigued when The Colonel told me of you and Julian, which is why I invited you here and when I first set eyes on you I firmly believed that you were one such as me.
“And even Anna Darvulia here thought that the marks on your slave’s neck were the evidence of your fangs penetrating his jugular. But now knowing that you are not what I thought you were, I realise that you will find what I am about you tell you hard to believe.”
Drawing herself up to her full height she rolled her head, flicking her long black tresses across her bare shoulders as she continued.
“You are now in the presence of the Baroness Erzebert, Elizabeth to use your English version of my name, Bartholi, a name that I think you may recognise. I have prolonged my existence for over four hundred years since my enemies condemned me and walled me up in Csejthe Castle for a crime that was nothing more than bathing in the blood of six hundred or so virgins. Virgins that nobody cared for. But what no one understood was that I needed the innocent pure blood of those virgins to keep my youth.
“They were nothing, just worthless peasants and I was the wife of General Ferene Nádasky. He was royalty and a very important man and as was the custom in those days, he married me when I was just a child of fourteen. To keep him happy I had to stay very young and desirable, even though his lovemaking was totally self-centred and unsatisfactory. Bathing in their blood was the secret that let me do that, and although of course I was not able to completely stem the onset of the years I have never looked any older than I do now.
“And Anna helped me by procuring young innocent girls. In most cases their parents were only too ready and glad to sell them; they did not care what happened to them afterwards. But I was found out and bricked up behind a wall in a dungeon and eventually everyone thought that I had perished.
“As you can see that was not the case. Vladimir is exactly who you thought he was when you first set eyes on him: Vlad the Impaler, in other words, Count Dracula; for they are one and the same.
“Did you know that in Romanian, Dracul or Dracula means the Devil, and in ancient Transylvania it was believed that witches mated with him to give birth to vampires. And because my own bloodline goes right back to those times, he came to me and turned me truly into one of his own kind and believing that I was dead, the authorities released my body for burial. But I was not dead. I was undead, like him.
“And so that she could remain serving me, he bit Anna Darvulia as well. And she proved to be one of the very few undead who can actually survive in daylight, as can the Marquis. She kept me hidden for almost two hundred years until Count Dracula stumbled across the Marquis, who was rotting in the Bastille and yelling encouragement to the children of the revolution from behind the bars of his cell.
“He saved him too. The Marquis did not die in the asylum at Charenton in 1803 as is documented; in reality he escaped and secretly gathered his fortune and purchased this castle, where he has remained ever since. Vlad brought me and Anna from Transylvania to live with and serve the Marquis and so here we are; not alive yet not dead and enjoying every sin-filled minute of our existence.
“But I still have to maintain my youth; the Marquis despite all his perversions will not fuck an old woman. And to remain young, once a year it is necessary for me to perform a special Ceremony; to bathe in the blood of exactly one hundred virgins. That is what I will be doing very shortly, after the clock striking the midnight hour signals that the time is right. And most unfortunately for your slave, he will play a major part in the proceedings.”
Mistress Madonna’s brain whirled. What the hell was going on here? The woman must be insane. What was all this rubbish about Julian? And what exactly was it that the Baroness trying to say? That she was a vampire and lived in this castle along with Count Dracula and an equally vampiric Marquis de Sade?
It seemed that she did.
“You disappoint me my dear. I really thought that you were one of us. But we all make mistakes and I shall just have to put you down as one of mine. The fate of your virgin slave is already sealed, but what do we do with you?”
Anna’s response to her words was immediate and fervent.
“I want her. I want to whip her. I want to smash her into nothingness, and I want to fuck her.”
“Yes, we all know that. You have made it so very obvious right from the start. But I do not think that just allowing you to indulge your fantasies would prove very satisfactory to the rest of us. I think that we all would like to partake ourselves of her charms; she has a very tempting body.”
Clicking her fingers and issuing some unheard orders, the Baroness summoned a posse of guards into the chamber. Circling her middle finger, she indicated that they should surround Mistress Madonna and Anna.
“You Anna, are beginning to concern me. Recently I have noticed that you are developing ideas far above your station. After all these centuries of serving me, I have great difficulty in understanding that you just do not seem to appreciate your true position here. I am your mistress and you are my underling! Perhaps it is just a matter of long familiarity breeding contempt. I cannot understand that you do not realise that I can replace you at any time, so I am not going to make it easy for you.
“There will be a contest. Between you and Mistress Madonna. There are no rules but there will be no whips or weapons of any kind, it will be a straight hand
to hand, bare-knuckle fight. And if you lose, well . . . If I were you I would ensure that that does not happen.”
Mistress Madonna was determined that that was exactly what would happen and from the off, the very moment that she was freed from the restraint of her captors she went at Anna with venomous fury; smashing her with clenched fists, biting, clawing, kicking and gouging until Anna’s dress clung to her body in tatters. Her nugget-nippled breasts now stripped bare, gasping with effort Anna hung on to Mistress Madonna’s silken gown and succeeded in pulling it down over her heaving orbs and bereft of their support it fell in a puddle around her ankles. Pushing Anna away, Mistress Madonna kicked the gown clear and resumed her attack, ripping away the last remnants of Anna’s dress. Anna was now completely naked and Mistress Madonna’s only accoutrements were her black suspender belt and stockings and the ruby glowing in her navel; and of course the wonderful forest of curly jet-black pubic hair that thatched her mons.
Both the combatants possessed magnificent bodies and the sight of them colliding with each other as they wrestled, their full, taut breasts refusing to flatten as they pressed against each other was a truly prick-raising spectacle; as the prominent bulges in the trousers of Vladimir and the Marquis clearly demonstrated. Although clearly concerned over the fate of his mistress, Julian too had sprouted a startlingly cock-stretching erection.
Mistress Madonna eventually succeeded in hooking a foot behind one of Anna’s ankles and with her palms pressed flat over both of her heaving breasts, toppled her backwards. Anna hit the ground with an almighty thud and Mistress Madonna leapt in to finish her off.
“Stop!”
The order was clear enough but Mistress Madonna was euphoric in the moment of victory. She found herself strangely exhilarated by the tussle of naked flesh against naked flesh and although panting heavily, her perspiration-soaked body sliding over Anna’s equally slippery skin, she dismissed the Baroness’ command and continued to pummel Anna with savage blows. Her clenched fists thudded solidly into the firm flesh of Anna’s breasts and she only ceased her attack when she was pulled off the prostrate girl by the struggling posse of guards.
Held in the unbreakable grip of the guards, she still radiated defiance as the Baroness addressed her; managing to land one more hefty kick between Anna’s thighs as she picked herself up from the ground. Clutching her sex, Anna fell back to the floor, collapsing in a wailing heap.
The Baroness was not amused. Her tone was icily threatening.
“Mistress Madonna, it is not wise to ignore my words and I advise you not to do so again. Do you understand?”
Mistress Madonna did not take unwanted advice from anyone.
“I’ll do what I like and there’s nothing that you can do to stop me.”
“We will see about that later. Now, the reason that I ordered you to stop was because the contest was decidedly one-sided, so we must even it up. You are far too strong for Anna to stand a chance in physical combat, so contrary to my earlier decision we will turn to the whips. That way you both stand an equal chance.”
The guards were far too many in number for resistance to be an option and so one after another, in turn, Mistress Madonna and Anna were hung by their outstretched arms from hooks in the ceiling of the hall. Handed a bullwhip, they each took turns in lashing the other; starting with ten lashes each. Striped, bruising up and sucking in air, they both survived the initial lashing without a murmur.
“Alright, now you both get another twenty.”
Anna was envious of Mistress Madonna’s individuality and commanding presence, qualities that so obviously impressed the Baroness. Mistress Madonna hated Anna for her presumption with Julian. So they both lashed out with no restraint whatsoever, the winner would take it all. And reap the reward that went with victory.
Lash upon lash fell upon taut, vibrant flesh. Neither gave way. The sentence was increased, with thirty extra lashes being added to the sentence. Still, they both hung on. Mistress Madonna and Anna both had superbly fit bodies. And they could both take pain. But Mistress Madonna possessed a resilience that was insurmountable. With Julian screaming out his own anguish at seeing his mistress so evilly abused, it was Anna who finally begged for mercy. The Baroness was not best pleased, that much was obvious, but Mistress Madonna was eventually the undisputed victor.
“You win. Do with her as you will.”
Mistress Madonna did not wish to do anything with Anna. But although she had no designs on her herself, she remembered the dismissive supercilious manner in which Anna had treated a resentful Esmeralda in the forest.
“Yes I did win, but I have no use for her. But I am certain that I know someone who does. Can I pass my victory onwards?”
There was a moment’s deliberation.
“Of course. To the victor the spoils. What is your wish?”
“Her! The gypsy girl. Give Anna to her.”
The Baroness deliberated for a moment, her eyes roving over the tent-like projections jutting out from the trousers of Vladimir and the Marquis.
“Your wish, in this instance is my command, but first I think we must allow those two obviously raging and rampant cocks to take precedence. They will fuck her first and then Esmeralda can do as she likes with what remains of her.”
Vladimir and the Marquis needed no further encouragement. Within seconds Anna was again hauled from her feet and suspended a foot or so above the floor. Roughly pulling her legs wide apart, Vladimir and the Count took one foot each and using tight chains clamped to her ankles, anchored her feet to iron hoops set into the stone flags. Straddled between her legs, Vladimir’s skeletal fingers prized her sex flaps apart and just as he had with the novices in the courtyard, with no consideration for her whatsoever he drilled his bony cock straight up into her unprepared love hole. An unwelcoming hole that would rather have been on the receiving end of Mistress Madonna’s tongue.
And keeping true to his sexual credo, not caring a damn as to which orifice his own cock was connected, the Marquis stuffed his rampant weapon straight up her anus. Anna was buffeted furiously as in tandem both men plunged in and out of their respective sexual receptacle and fucked her with reckless abandon, jerking and juddering in unison as they both achieved orgasm together. Anna’s cunt filled with the sperm of the nauseous Transylvanian ogre, and her anus overflowed with the seed of the aristocratic father of sadism.
Lowering her down so that she was on her knees with her arms still stretched tightly above her, in turn the two plunderers of her body now thrust their cocks between her lips; firstly Vladimir and then the Count ordering her to suck and lick his sticky weapon clean. Lapping up and down their cocks from scrotum to bell end she cleaned off and swallowed what aromatic gunge remained on their weapons from their excursions into her vagina and her anus.
After delivering a final degradation by wiping their saliva-coated cocks with her hair, the two fathers of evil released Anna from her chains and threw her to the floor. Re-trousering their slackened weapons, they nonchalantly took their places beside the Baroness, who greeted their return with some degree of sarcasm.
“Quite a display. Not quite up to your normal standards though, a little hurried I thought. But I suppose everybody has an off day and now that we have got both of your cocks sorted out, perhaps we can get on with the business in hand; namely Anna and Mistress Madonna’s right to use her in any way she wishes.”
Whether the Baroness’ remarks arose from envy Mistress Madonna did not know but she found herself to be of a completely different opinion. Having witnessed the relentless, totally inconsiderate plundering of Anna, she felt more than pleased. She was herself in a desperate situation and she knew that she should really have been more concerned about what was to happen to her, but Anna’s humiliation had sent waves of jubilation coursing through her body. She had beaten Anna in combat and that felt marvellous, but Vladimir and the Marquis ha
d violated Anna’s sex in a way that she never could. If they were not so vile themselves, she could have kissed them.
As she addressed Mistress Madonna, the Baroness was obviously not so gratified.
“So, what is your wish?”
“As I said before. Give Anna to the gypsy girl.”
A promise was a promise. Even for the Baroness. So Esmeralda was released from her chains and helped to her feet and when she had pulled herself together, her first demand was more than unexpected.
“Shave her head!”
The Baroness was taken aback.
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes. I want her head to match her cunt.”
“That is a strange request. Why would you want that?”
“To humiliate her! And because when she sticks her tongue up into my vagina I don’t want straggly hair rasping my thighs. Only one of us is going to enjoy what I want her to do; and that’s me! And when I’m finished with her, a bald-headed woman is not a man’s first desire.”
There was no escape for Anna. A formidable heavy-breasted guard wielding a pair of shears lopped her tresses almost down to her skull, another quickly taking her place to scrape away the remaining stubble with a broad-bladed hunting knife. Anna’s skull was not as smooth as the proverbial billiard ball, the odd tuft of hair remaining here and there, but Esmeralda appeared to be well satisfied with the scalping.
Anna’s tongue was fabled among the castle staff, having driven the Baroness and numerous of her minions into the rapturous paradise of seemingly unattainable ecstasy on uncountable occasions.
Now it was Esmeralda’s turn.
“You ordered me to lick you out, so you must like it. Well, I like it too and you lick like and angel so they tell me, so now get that tongue working on me.”
As Esmeralda stood over her, Anna’s expertise in cunnilingus was tested to the full as she was forced to pleasure her underling. Nuzzling between Esmeralda’s labia, grasping her buttocks to pull her close, her tongue began to drive the girl into an ever more evident display of arousal. Esmeralda’s increasingly vocal moans of pleasure reached fever pitch as Anna’s nose brushed her erect clitoris, her teeth nibbled on it and her tongue rasped and lapped it. Ramming her crotch hard into Anna’s face, Esmeralda orgasmed in a spasming, squealing crescendo of noisy bliss, squirting unquantifiable measures of musky love juice over her lips and into her mouth.
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